I’ve always been able to identify with Lily and her wounds to understand her healing process, to grasp the subtle and not-so-subtle psychological developments that help her to reconstruct a self. What I didn’t feel enough, though, was empathy.

Putting yourself in another person’s shoes isn’t just about imagining the body. We can create little movies inside our minds as mirror neurons give us the ability to imagine ourselves in someone else’s place.

Going deep emotionally, though, is a skill set you can’t develop. The building blocks have to be inherently in place. It’s like fast-twitch muscles that allow athletes to go from great to Olympic level. You have it or you don’t. And if you don’t, you’ll never develop it.

If you do, it’s up to you to find a way to optimize it.

As we sit here eating, I focus on the food. Never underestimate the power of macronutrients in reestablishing stability and empathy, though there’s no perfect ratio of protein to carbs to fats to give yourself an edge in that department.

I’m sitting here at the table, feeling all these feelings, when Lily taps my hand. She’s freshly showered, her hair hanging in loose, wet waves around her face. Soaked through, the strands of her hair hang longer than they do when dry, giving her an even more wholesome look.

And covering the scar in the back of her skull.

She smiles at me. “You’re a million miles away.”

“No, ma’am,” I tell her. “I’m right here, present and on duty.”

“Must have a nice job if duty involves raclette.” She looks at the hot stone in front of us with melted cheese and an assortment of meats and other foods.

I have to laugh. “It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.”